For You
by lezonne
Summary: Written for "The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition" round 2. Even though he tried to redeem himself during the war, someone else beat him to the punch line. And only one person knows of the good deed he tried to do. And she refuses to watch him suffer alone. Implied romance/angst


**A/n**: Here's my second entry for round 2 of "The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition"! This round is based off our interpretation of lyrics. Edited by **lozipozivanillabean.** And here are the things I incorporated in:

**Chaser 1 optional prompt #4**: Notebook

**Chaser 2 optional prompt #3**: Clipped wings

**Chaser 3 optional prompt #2**: "I can honestly say that I do not care."

My song:

"And so it must be For so it is written

On the doorway to paradise

That those who falter and those who fall

Must pay the price!"

_- Stars, Les Misérables_

* * *

_A caged bird cannot sing, and you cannot flutter without wings. _

Those words rang in his head, etched into the foundations of his mind, repeating on the hour every hour of every day since the war's end. His hands, dirtied by death and gore, reflected nothing but the mistakes he had made- the scars he had earned. He wore gloves to hide them whenever he was alone- hiding his misery, his past.

It wasn't like no one knew of his faults. Parading around with a bunch of joyous teenagers his age, walking mindlessly from class to repetitive class each day, he'd grown accustomed to ignoring the majority of people he knew. Most of the people his age- those who had fought and suffered during the war- were a bit more secluded in their pride at winning, or their dishonor with failure.

He saw them every bloody day, the Golden Trio, prancing through the halls. They didn't laugh quite as much as they once had, for war and regret lay upon their shoulders, burdening them even though those days were past. Everyone had a load to bear now that Britain was in rubbles, scarred by the bloodbath that had covered the land with the fall of Voldemort.

The Death Eater's defeated, the Order- victorious, those who opposed Potter were publically humiliated across the covers of papers and articles alike, their names slandered. The few supposed _lucky_ ones who escaped the hands of Azkaban got the joy of wandering through the streets of London, Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, hearing people whisper in their wake about the horrors they had caused and what a useless and worthless person they had become.

Even those who were branded as cowards, who couldn't get off their knees and take a stand suffered for the side they chose. In a world full of people who claimed they wanted equal rights- and fairness- they sure expelled a lot of hate. Wandering through the halls of the building he had called home for eight years now, Draco had never felt more alone.

His friends for the most part didn't return to school. They fled like cowards to different parts of the globe, their families hoping to start anew in a country where their reputation didn't precede them. Draco knew from letters that these plans did not work. It was very lonely to wander the halls alone- feeling like you didn't really have anyone to confide in.

He spent his days in silence, and occasionally in the unappreciated but uncontrollable tears his eyes let free, wondering why he paid a price so high, for a side and a point of view that he didn't completely believe in, in the end. When he thought he had been close to redemption by offering to give Potter the coordinates to where Voldemort planned to attack next, his hope had been dashed when someone else beat him to the punch line. Only one person knew he was almost a hero, one single person who swore never to speak of that day again.

She constantly watched him, monitoring and observing him, each day as he passed through those dreaded halls alone.

* * *

The first time they spoke after the war, she happened upon him in one of the uppermost hallways, patrolling one night for her Head Girl duties.

"You know there's a punishment for breaking curfew," she said, leaning against the wall opposite him, her wand reflecting the disapproval in her eyes.

"I can honestly say that I do not care, Granger," he replied, though his voice sounded dull in comparison to the usual snark it held. He couldn't help but be bitter, not when he knew that the position could've been his- the position of Head Boy- had he done things a bit differently with his life. He could be reaping the benefits of that title now if he hadn't messed up so badly. "Why don't you get lost? We both know I'm not moving."

There was a pause in conversation then, a pause that he did not appreciate. "If I got lost every time you seemed downtrodden Malfoy, I don't think you'd be alive right now."

He jumped up from his position then, her words cutting through him like glass. "Get out of here Granger! I didn't ask for your help!"

She sighed, gently pushing herself away from the wall. "You hold yourself accountable for a lot Malfoy, despite the fact that so much of this isn't your fault. You're letting yourself slip a little more each day- I can see it. You need to let it go. The war is over now, and moping about your home life-"

"Stop," he hissed, taking a step towards her, "You know nothing of my life! A single glimpse into someone else's reality doesn't give you the right amount of perception to really understand what's going on Granger! You had one sliver of time, a single glance captured in your mind's eye of the life I've led and the expectations set before me. That's nothing compared to someone's entire life! Stop trying to make me believe that you understand _anything_ about my life, when we both know you know absolutely nothing! Don't lie to yourself- you can only let yourself down that way."

If she was hurt by his words, she didn't let on. "Don't act bitter towards me simply because you didn't get your own way. You tried to take the high road, to side with someone who upheld your beliefs in the beginning, who promised fake pleasures and guaranteed impossible things. Your regret wallows in your heart because you failed to see a fake, heartless man for what he was until it was too late, when you were in too deep, when you couldn't do anything but accept the fact that your life was patchwork."

"You know nothing," he spat, already prepared to turn away.

"I know your life is like a patchwork quilt," she said again. "You pieced together a picture of perfection for yourself during all those days spent alone in your bedroom at the Manor, hoping that life would work out perfectly and that you could live lavishly, your misdeeds covered up by material possessions. You wanted to remove all of your treachery away, vanish it beneath blankets, dirt, and layers of lies, to build yourself a perfect life both for you and your mother. And on your way your feet slipped out from beneath you and dropped you back down to the first square of that patchwork quilt, back to square one."

"Shut up," he spat, clenching and unclenching his hands as he continued to face away from her.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of falling," she said, shaking her head from behind him. "By falling back, by having a sliver of humanity within you, you gave into the pain of harboring all those secrets, of trying to avoid ever speaking the killing curse. You're not a heartless person Malfoy, you just wanted to play the part of one."

"Say what you want Granger, but you don't know anything about me."

"I know that if you were truly, honestly happy with the way things were going for you on that side of the war, if you really enjoyed the life you were living, that you would not have owled me that day with a plan to reveal information. You would not betray someone if you were loyal, but after you were discarded for being unable to murder someone in cold blood, you found yourself with clipped wings and fell back to square one, considered no better than I in your Lord's eye for failing to kill someone, for failing to kill me."

He spun around, his wand out now and angled at her. "And I should've killed you! I should've done it so he wouldn't torture me! You don't understand Granger, you don't understand how hard it is to let someone like _you_ go, to let your one chance of being Voldemort's damn favorite slip through your fingers, and to pay the price by finding yourself tortured for not killing Harry Potter's bloody friend. I suffered for you, for letting you go, and you better believe that I don't think it was worth it."

Without waiting for her to retaliate, he spun around and exited the hallway, taking long steps to put as much distance between them as possible. He hated seeing her, he hated knowing she existed. It was worse than falling from grace, than losing everything. He saved her because he was too big of a coward to kill her, and just how did she repay him?

She taunted him every single day by wandering through the halls, by being herself, by being _happy_.

* * *

The next time they spoke, it was all his fault. He sought her out, the guilt of his past actions weighing down on him as he took a seat beside her in the library one day, intruding on her study time. She looked up, none too happy to see him.

"Can I help you with something Malfoy?" she asked, refusing to shut the book she was reading. He didn't say a word, but instead reached into his robe to pull out an item which he over to her. Her heart stopped as she recognized the item, slowly caressing the cover with her fingers.

"You've asked me since the day I did it Granger, you've asked me why I burnt that bloody notebook. You asked me for a year now why I burnt your notes, your strategies, your plans, before I ever even turned you into the Dark Lord."

She blinked, perplexed by the item in front of her. It was barely noticeable, her old notebook, but she knew the item not because it was recognizable, but because it looked the same as the day he had burnt it.

"It wasn't to save you," he said, cutting through her thoughts. "It was never about saving your bloody life, not in the beginning."

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, for she had been attempting to speak to him since school began and rarely got anything out of him. "Why did you burn the notebook then?"

"I did it for me!" he spat, looking at the nearby bookshelf instead of her, ignoring the first question. "You weren't supposed to be nearly tortured to death Granger, and I was certainly never supposed to save you. I did it to get on Voldemort's good side, for he said you would be held captive until Potter appeared to save you, and I assumed that in the meantime you would be able to escape. There wasn't supposed to be torture."

Realization hit her hard, and she sat back slowly in her chair. "You felt bad that I was suffering. That heart of yours couldn't take it, so you saved me."

He huffed. "I didn't do it for you Granger, none of it. When I realized that you were going to die, I made a quick decision. With you dead, I'd never find a way to get back in his good graces, not when my bloody aunt would be the source of your death. I thought it would be beneficial to me in the long run to let you go, and I assumed you would return the favor sometime. I didn't expect you to wait until after the damn war to do something."

"You're selfish," she whispered, staring at his face, tears beginning to gather in the corner of her eyes. "You saved me so you had a scapegoat to save yourself!"

"And it backfired on me, okay? I was too big of a coward to kill you, so I stole you. I thought you would be useless dead, so I freed you. I paid the price for that, repeatedly. I thought I could redeem myself by owling you the plans with the next and final battle, but I was too damn slow and Nott beat me to it. I thought I could make things better for myself in the end, but things didn't turn out that way, hmm?" He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I still ended up hated and alone, even if I did escape time in Azkaban for _almost_ being a good person. I couldn't get out of the web of despair I created for myself."

"You were your own destruction Malfoy," she said, still staring at him. "Call it what you want, but you were self-absorbed enough to think that you could get away with all of that without being caught. You were caught and you're paying the price for the things you did to me and everyone else during the war."

"I think I've paid a high enough bloody price at this point," he grumbled, remembering the scars on his back. "But I don't care about your opinion of me Granger I've made that clear before." He shoved his chair back again, turning to leave.

"Why did you bring this to me?" she asked, repeating her question a second time. "What's the point of me having it if the war's gone and it's burnt to the point of being unreadable?" She was actually surprised that it was still somewhat intact.

He did not turn back to look at her, but merely shrugged his shoulders. "I thought you should remember what I did for you," he said, but no venom laced his voice. "I was supposed to kill you if you weren't to be tortured, and I didn't do that either. Face it Granger, I may have caught you, but that was bound to happen to you at some point, even if it wasn't me. Bella was excited to have something to torture, and those cowardly friends of yours left without you. Dobby couldn't get back through the wards, you tried to escape, and I captured you again. Someone was bound to find you Granger, you're just lucky I was the person who did, or you wouldn't be alive today."

She watched him leave, the notebook still sitting in front of her as she stared down at it. He was right; he did quite a lot for her, no matter how much they both hated to admit it. And then she never came through for him, not during the war. A visit to a lonely patient at St. Mungo's in the aftermath of war didn't mean anything to the blonde, and it was obvious. He wanted no company when he was left so hurt.

While he might've saved her, she'd never saved him. She was the reason his patchwork life fell to shambles, starting over at square one. She was the reason he became a caged bird, locked up and tormented for saving her life. She was trying to make things right in this situation by being aloof, by staying away from the blonde and monitoring him, looking for a break in his composure. And she'd done an awful job.

Someone needed to let the bird out of his cage, and it was going to be her.

* * *

"This is my spot Granger, so bugger off."

"It's grass Malfoy, I can sit where I please."

"Well, sit someplace else." They were sitting near the lake, a secluded area hidden by a few hills. She'd seen him walk down there and it had taken forever to find him, but now that she had she intended to speak to him.

"You don't have to move away from me you know," she said, sitting beside him. He sneered and scooted further away. "Don't be like that Malfoy- you know you want some company."

"Not from you," he spat.

"Well, too bad. I'm basically the only person in this bloody place that's going to speak to you, so get used to it. You didn't seek me out in the library a few weeks ago just to give me an old keepsake. You needed the company."

"I don't need anything from you."

"Right," she said, rolling her eyes. She studied him for a moment, his stiff composure, tight lipped expression, and realized that he was more uncomfortable with the situation than he wanted to admit. Sighing, she reached over and grabbed his hand, and he practically jumped out of his skin, ripping his hand away from hers.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he snapped, glaring at her. Hermione just rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand again, firmer this time.

"Relax," she said, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "I'm holding your hand, and not even in a romantic way. You're too detached from humans Malfoy, what with your parents in Azkaban and all. If someone doesn't show you some concern, you're going to go over the edge."

"This is showing concern?"

"If I wasn't deeply concerned for you, would I even be attempting this?"

He didn't have an answer to that, and chose to not reply. Instead he dropped his shoulders and decided to relax, deciding he didn't have the energy to fight with her. Besides, she sought him out after all!

It was kind of nice to have some human interaction again. He didn't realize how much he had missed- missed being accepted- and fortunately for him, Granger didn't seem to care if he'd had his wings clipped.

Bloody Gryffindor's were forgiving like that.

* * *

**A/n: **Thoughts? Leave a review! 2,990 words before fanfiction formatting!


End file.
